


The gift that keeps on giving.

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Jealous Sam Winchester, M/M, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's never going to forgive Charlie for this...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The gift that keeps on giving.

**Author's Note:**

> wings128 was sent a picture by a friend which she then passed on to me. It's a manip, but it's just so worth it. Hope her friend doesn't mind me using it as inspiration ;)

Sam's sat curled up on the sofa in their bedroom when he hears someone clearing their throat. He looks up from his journal to see Dean stood in the doorway wearing a cheeky smirk and the t-shirt Charlie bought him for Christmas, "Dean, please don't wear that out."

Dean chews on his bottom lip to stop from laughing in Sam's face. He knew he'd get a rise out of his brother with his choice in clothes but he didn't know he'd get a patented _Sam-Pout_ to go along with it. Bonus, "What's wrong with it, don't I make it work?"

Sam sighs, rolls his eyes and then remembers that every time he even mentions Dean's ability to pull in an empty bar it gets him an evening of teasing and having to constantly monitor what he says, so decides to choke back his original reply, "No, you definitely make it work. It's just it's...it's cold out and you might need a jacket...or something."

Dean almost feels bad for his brother, he can sense exactly how much it's taking for him not to whine about putting up with people trying to crawl into Dean’s lap all night. Then again the last time they went out for a beer it was Sam getting felt up by some college guy with a tongue stud, so Dean's not gonna let a little Sammy related guilt stop him from having some fun. Plus his baby boy’s always _so_ cute when he's jealous, "Good. Okay, we ready or what?"

Sam shakes his head and closes his journal, "Not yet, gimme fifteen, just gotta shower and change."

Dean watches Sam slope off into the bathroom and turns towards the wardrobe. As he eyes himself in the full length mirror, he can't help his childish grin. Turning left, then right, Dean laughs at the memory of Sam's face on christmas morning.

_Dean’s sitting cross legged beneath the ten foot spruce he and Sam forced through the ridiculously slim doorways of the bunker, "Charlie, you didn't have to you know."_

_Charlie's sprawled half in Sam's lap and half on the massive couch wearing her Care Bear pajamas and a flashing santa hat and is practically bouncing on the spot, "I know I know, no need to be a bitch about it. Just open it already."_

_Sam watches Charlie watch Dean and wonders what mischief she's making this time. Judging by the expectant look on her face, it's gonna be good. Sam pokes Charlie in the ribs and chuckles at her **’Kid in a candy store’** routine, "What did you get him anyway? you look like you're about to explode."_

_She swings her legs off Sam's lap and leans over the edge of the couch, "You'll see. Come on Dean I could get to your age waiting over here."_

_Dean pokes his tongue out in concentration and 'has at' the reams of scotch tape holding the wrapping paper together, "Cheeky bitch. I'm not much older than...." Dean finally manages to get the paper all the way off and bursts out laughing, "Charlie, that is **awesome!** "_

_"What's the big deal it's just a...." Sam watches Dean turn the t-shirt round and his mouth falls open in disgust, "Oh Charlie why! He's bad enough as it is. Did you have to!"_

_Dean doesn't even bother taking off what he's wearing, just crams the t-shirt on over his head and sits grinning like an idiot, pulling the hem of the shirt down so everyone can read the slogan._

_Sam shakes his head and fights off the images of Dean going out drinking in a t-shirt that reads **Orgasm Donor** and tries not to scowl._

Dean had figured out pretty quickly that Sam didn’t like the shirt but he didn’t realise quite how much until they’d all gone out for drinks on New Year’s.

_Charlie leads Sam and Dean by the hand into what can only be described as a single guy’s paradise. There are men and women of all ages and races wearing very little and dancing like an apocalypse just hit town._

_Dean makes it passed the ridiculously good looking bouncer to be met by a sea of heaving sweaty, gorgeous human beings, “How have we lived here for this long and **not** known about this place!”_

_Sam raises an eyebrow at his brother and pointedly clears his throat._

_“Oh calm down Sammy, I’m not gonna start humping the clientele. But you gotta admit, there are some fine assed specimens in here!”_

_Charlie laughs and lets go of their hands, “It’s a mixers bar for local...alternative personalities,” she swings her arms wide and spins on the spot, manic gleam in her eyes, “Basically, my fine monster killing friends, this is the equivalent of a gay bar for anyone who’s not quite normal. Gay, straight, nerd, geek, witch, hell I think there’s even a couple of psychics around here somewhere. You two should fit right in.”_

_Grabbing them both by the lapels, Charlie drags them towards the bar and orders a round of jaeger, “Down the hatch!”_

_Sam’s been suspiciously quiet since they walked in and Dean turns to find his little brother fighting off the attentions of a rather butch looking guy in a white stetson and shockingly bright cowboy boots, “Need a little help there Sammy?”._

_The muscle bound moron takes one look at Dean and shoves Sam out the way, “Think I might have picked me the wrong man. You come here often sugar?”_

_Dean smirks at Sam’s outraged huff and shoots for polite, “Sorry fella, I’m taken.”_

_Stetson nods his head at Sam and gives Dean a disbelieving look, “What….this dude. You gotta be kidding me. I pictured you as more of a rough and ready kinda guy.”_

_Dean can practically see the steam billowing out of Sam’s ears and decides now might be a good time to move this party along. Along the bar and away from the inevitable knock-down-drag-out that’ll happen if Dean doesn’t find a way to defuse Sam’s righteous indignation, “Like I said, I’m taken, so have a good night. **Good luck** finding someone to kiss at midnight.”_

_Dean deftly sidesteps the hand the wanna be cowboy’s about to lay on his shoulder and slips his fingers in Sam’s back pocket, “Come on sweet cheeks, let’s get you another drink.”_

_Sam allows Dean to pull him away before he lays one on the cheeky hat wearing dick. He’s about to say something when he hears, “If you need someone to take donations, just let me know.” and Dean has to hook a hand in his collar to stop him from turning and killing the guy._

_Dean hides his smirk in a cough and moves them as far down the bar as possible, “Chill out Sam, no need to get your panties in a twist.”_

_Sam turns flint eyes on his brother and sighs, “I knew that bloody shirt would be more trouble than it’s worth. Remind me to get Charlie a year’s supply of itching powder next christmas would you?”_

_Dean motions the bartender for two beers and scans the dancefloor, “Speaking of, where is our little redheaded fairy lover?”_

_Sam finds her across the dance floor curled round a extremely attractive looking brunette with hair down to her very nice ass, “She’s on pick up duty. I swear she’s you in female form.”_

_Dean follows Sam’s sight line and nods before realising what Sam’s just said, “Hey! I haven’t been that bad for years. I’m a one Sammy guy, remember!”_

_Sam’s eyebrows hit his hairline and Dean back peddles, quick, “Okay, **okay!**. So I like a little flirt every now and then. Doesn’t mean I’m not completely devoted to my picky pain in the ass brother, does it?”_

_Dean’s attempt at the ‘innocent look’ has Sam grinning and shaking his head and Dean thinks perhaps he’s not so bad at this subtlety thing after all._

_Sam leans back against the bar and watches Charlie work her magic, “I think maybe we should….oh for fuck sake.”_

_Dean’s questioning stare is answered when he turns in the direction Sam’s looking and comes face to face with a six foot three leather clad blonde, “Oh.”_

It had carried on like that all night. Sam getting steadily more pissed off and Dean having to say ‘No’ to about a dozen different suitors. Male, female, young, old, until he’d finally caved and dragged Sam out of the club before he ended up blowing his top at some poor horny stranger. 

Since then Dean’s found Sam trying to bin the offending t-shirt more than once. It’s gotten so bad that Dean’s started having to wash it by hand and hide it in amongst his gun collection to stop Sam from shredding it with a pair of scissors.

Every time it’s mentioned Sam feigns ignorance and Dean has to fight the urge to rip it out of his brother. Sammy doesn’t show jealousy often so Dean’s not gonna push but he’s been quite enjoying the way Sam’s eyes darken every time he goes out in public wearing it.

This evening’s the first time Sam’s slipped and actually _asked_ Dean not to wear it. If he was a good brother he’d take it off, but he’s not a good brother. Good brothers don’t regularly fuck their younger siblings into the middle of next week. That and Dean really does love Sam’s pouty face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They’ve been out a whole hour and Sam hasn’t had to beat anyone with a baseball bat full of nails so he’s feeling a little more cheerful. Downing the last of his beer, he’s about to ask Dean if he wants a game of pool when he spots a man mountain with a ponytail eyeing his brother from the other side of the bar, “Heads up. Incoming.”

Judging by Sam’s tone Dean knows exactly what’s about to happen but finds himself curious enough to scan the bar. He didn’t think this was the kind of place where he’d find dudes willing to spout cheesy chat up lines at other dudes.

Dean’s eyes land on the colossal looking guy giving him the come on from across the room and actually has to take a step back, “Bloody hell. I never thought I’d meet anyone tall enough to give you a run for your money but that’s guy’s **huge**.”

Sam nods, grinds his teeth and spins away from the spectacle of yet another person trying to pick up his other half, “You know what, I think I’m gonna…” he’s cut off by Dean’s sharp intake of breath.

Turning, Sam’s met with an image that will take a gallon of borax and a year’s worth of therapy to scrub from his memory.

Dean is being mauled by the guy from across the bar and is blatantly not happy about it. There’s a gigantic paw gripping the back of his head and his lips are mashed up against a set that definitely aren’t Sam’s and he’s trying to hit him anywhere he can land a punch but just looks like a human windmill.

Sam’s gut instincts kick in and he reaches round Dean to shove the idiotically suicidal guy away, “Get your fucking hands off him.”

Sam swears he hears their lips ‘pop’ as they disengage and has to fight the need to vomit, “Dean you okay?”

Dean’s scrubbing at his lips and making gagging noises. He’s just been violated. By a bloody bear. Wendigo’s and Werewolves and Lucifer; no problem. big burly dude with a chip on his shoulder and a death wish; problem, “No I’m not all-fucking-right I’m gonna…”

Dean’s about to start swinging when he hears rather than sees Sam’s fist connect with the other guy’s jaw. 

Picking himself off the floor, the guy with the ponytail looks as if he’s gonna start throwing punches when Sam gets right up in his face, “That’s it, that’s fucking _it_! No more, I’m sick and tired of watching dumb assed mooks like you who think they can come over here and take what doesn’t fucking belong to them! Walk away, walk away or I swear to god I’ll take you apart!”

Dean watches Sam threaten his ‘attacker’ and realises just how close to losing it his baby brother really is and lays a hand on his hip, “Come on Sammy, back off. Last thing we need’s another arrest on our sheet. We both know you could rip him several new ones. Doesn’t mean I wanna have to jailbreak your ass.”

Sam’s not really listening but the heat of Dean’s skin through layers of cloth lowers his blood pressure a little, “Dean…”

Dean gives the guy facing off against Sam a warning glare and nods towards the door. He backs away slowly, hands raised, “Sorry man, thought you looked like you could use a good going over.”

Dean has to step in front of Sam and lay his palms against his brother’s broad chest to stop him from following, “Sam. Sammy...come on, I’m alright. Calm down.”

The look on his face is enough to scare the spit out of a hoard of demons, let alone the bar patrons all pointing and whispering. Dean pushes against Sam’s chest, digging his nails in, and bodily shoves him towards the back door, “Come on Ali, let’s get you cooled off.”

Sam finds himself outside in the alley and shakes his head to clear the rage still roiling around his brain, “Fucking cheeky bastard. What the fuck did he think he was doing, I should’ve…”

Dean watches Sam pace the alleyway and can’t help admiring the way his shoulders roll beneath the material of his shirt, the way his muscles in his triceps bunch every time he clenches his fists. He may be a nerd of epic proportions but when he lets the usually calm exterior slip, Sam is a thing of beauty.

“Sam, chill,” Dean’s back hits the bricks before he realises what’s happening and the look on Sam’s face is enough to have his cock twitching against his thigh, “Sammy…”

Sam’s not thinking, he’s acting on primal instinct. Someone thought they could get a piece of Dean and Sam’s innate need to mark him as his own is the only thing he’s capable of focusing on. Everything else is white noise, “Mine, Dean. You’re mine!”

Dean doesn’t answer, doesn’t offer some smug off hand quip. The look in Sam’s eyes is enough to fuse his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Instead he nods once and cards his fingers through Sam’s hair.

Sam twists into the touch like a cat, closing his eyes in enjoyment, allowing the feel of Dean’s rough palms to sooth the fire still raging in his gut. Sam spends a moment revelling in Dean’s touch before a need so strong takes him over it almost rocks him back on his heels, “Need you, now.”

The depth of feeling in Sam’s voice has Dean’s breath catching in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs, “Whatever you need baby boy.”

Dean’s agreement without hesitation makes Sam want to beat his chest and roar. Instead he grips the bottom of that god awful t-shirt in both hands and rips it straight up the middle.

Dean’s about to make some bitchy comment when he catches sight of something in Sam’s gaze that leaves him mute. Instead he nods again and lifts his arms for Sam to pull the material away from his body.

Sam removes the offending shirt, lunges forward and clamps down with his teeth on Dean’s jugular, sucking the skin into his mouth and lapping at it with his tongue. Reaching between them, Sam fumbles the button on Dean’s trousers and is about to rip that off too when he feels his brother’s hands over his.

“Calm, Sam.” Dean undoes his own jeans before they too end up in tatters on the floor and he has to walk his ass back to the bunker butt naked.

Sam watches Dean slide his jeans down his legs and has enough higher functioning brain power to check that there’s no signs of life from anywhere. Once he’s satisfied that they’re not gonna get interrupted, Sam looks Dean up and down, licking his lips, “Put your arms out.”

Dean does as he’s told, putting his wrists together as if he’s about to be cuffed and has to force air into his lungs when Sam reaches out and ties what’s left of the t-shirt round his wrists.

Knotting it tight enough to pinch skin, Sam gives Dean a predatory look and spins him up against the wall and uses the material still gripped in one hand to pull Dean’s arms up above his head.

Dean’s breathing is so shallow he’s not sure how he’s still conscious. His vision is whiting out at the edges and every inch of his exposed skin is tingling.

Sam’s never really been a ‘take the lead’ kind of guy when it comes to their partnership. Not that he just lays back and thinks of England, but he likes to be taken, to be owned by Dean. Sam’s told him more than once that knowing Dean _has_ to possess him in every way is so far beyond hot and with Sam braced behind him, breathing down his neck, Dean can suddenly understand _why_ his little brother enjoys it so much. The knowledge that Sam’s so far passed his usual sensible state of mind, that he’s angry enough to want to **take** what’s his, has Dean’s cock weeping and tapping against his belly, “Sammy…”

Sam cover’s Dean’s back with his chest, allows his hard throbbing cock to rub between his brother’s cheeks, and whispers against Dean’s ear, “I’m going to fuck you, **hard**.”

Sam doesn’t miss the hitch in Dean’s breathing or the way his body seems to be vibrating against him. He also doesn’t miss that Dean chooses not to answer, instead arching his back and pressing his ass into Sam.

Sam doesn’t want to hurt Dean, he might want to fuck him until he can’t walk straight but he doesn’t want to physically do him any harm, so he palms his own cock a couple of times, pumps it in his fist until there’s enough sticky liquid leaking from the tip for him to be able to coat himself and Dean’s hole, “Tell me you want me.”

Dean martials his voice enough not to sound like a breathy teenage girl and cranes his neck so he can see the look on Sam’s face, “I want you Sammy. Only you.”

On ‘you’ Sam forces a finger passed Dean’s tight ring of muscles and has to lean a shoulder against his brother’s back to stop him from arching too far away. As he works Dean from the inside, Sam laps at the skin between Dean’s shoulder blades, focusing on the way his brother moves until he’s sure Dean’s ready for a little more.

Dean’s head hits the bricks and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop from calling out. He’s not so far gone that he doesn’t remember where they are and he doesn’t want some burly bartender coming out back with a shotgun because he can hear Dean screaming Sam’s name above the jukebox.

Sam’s done playing nice. The sound of Dean’s muffled groans and the feel of him on his fingers is all too much and he has _got_ to bury himself inside his brother right _fucking_ **now** or he’s gonna blow his load up Dean’s back. Withdrawing his fingers, Sam slides the head of his cock along the crease of Dean’s ass until he feels the muscles give a little.

Scraping his nails against Dean’s hip, Sam snakes a hand between his brother’s legs and squeezes his cock at the same time as ramming his hips forward.

“Jesus Christ Sam,” Dean’s whole existence boils down to where he and Sam are joined. His baby brother’s cock is full and thick nestled inside his ass and he desperately wants to move, to slide himself the full length, but this is Sam’s show and he’s just enjoying being along for the ride.

Sam pants against the need to blindly fuck Dean into the wall and flicks the wrist attached to the fingers wrapping his brother’s cock and is rewarded with a loud unrepentant groan.

“Sammy come on…”

If Dean could see Sam’s face he’d be taken aback at the sheer feral quality to the smile gracing his lips. As it is he can only just see the bricks two inches in front of his eyes and is beginning to think he’s going to go insane if Sam doesn’t start moving soon, “Don’t make me beg Sam.”

Sam lets the material still clenched in his fist loop itself round his thumb so he can brace his palm flat against the bricks and starts a punishing rhythm that has Dean’s toes curling against the cold damp flagstones.

Sam fucks Dean as hard as he can, knowing his big brother can take it. Throwing himself into the feel of Dean clenching round his cock, Sam slams himself against his brother’s thighs, matching the erratic tempo of his hips to the almost painful grip he has on Dean’s cock, “Who do you belong to!”

Dean lets himself be slammed into the wall, ass stinging from Sam’s rough thrusts and clenches his teeth against the orgasm already threatening, “You. **You**. I belong to you!”

Hearing dean admit out loud that he belongs solely to Sam has Sam’s balls tightening quicker than he’d have expected. Bracing himself against the oncoming tide, Sam speeds up his strokes and pushes Dean towards the edge with him, “Come with me Dean, ple...please…”

The ‘please’ is all it takes for Dean to lose control. Under all that bravado and anger, Sam still needs his brother with him, right over the precipice, “Oh god, Sammy. Fuck, that’s it…”

As Dean’s muscles clench, squeezing Sam from base to tip, Sam empties himself inside his brother and has to use the wall and Dean’s back to stop himself from hitting the floor, “Fuck Dean!”

Sam lets the shredded t-shirt drop from his fingers as he pulls out of Dean. Panting, multi-coloured spots dancing across his vision, Sam leans his forehead against Dean’s shoulder and drops a gentle kiss against his skin, “That was….was…”

Dean turns in Sam’s arms and runs the tip of his tongue along his brother’s parted lips, “Remind me to thank Charlie again for her christmas present.”

The sound of the slap Sam lands on Dean’s ass is loud enough to be heard in the bar.


End file.
